


The Way I Tend To Be

by angelaofthelord



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, First Time, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Misunderstandings, Piningjolras, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-10
Updated: 2013-09-22
Packaged: 2017-12-18 09:44:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/878418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelaofthelord/pseuds/angelaofthelord
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras hadn't meant to stumble upon this. To see Jehan and .. Grantaire together. He knew they were close but he never realised how close. Of course in stumbling upon this he stumbled upon another discovery; his own feelings of love, of lust.</p><p>Jehan and Grantaire have an agreement, they have been friends along time and they help each other out with their loneliness and unrequited love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Plain Sailing Weather

**Author's Note:**

> This starts as a prologue of sorts and then dives right into the actual story.  
> Sorry for any typos or grammar mistakes - I don't have a beta!

Grantaire and Jehan have an agreement; it is a long standing agreement born from many years of loneliness, and many more years of friendship. It started when they both young and trying to work out why instead of soft curves and smooth skin they were dreaming about hard muscles and strong hands. They were each to other’s first kiss, first – well – everything.

It had slowed down over the years, of course. There had been boyfriends in and out of their lives (well Jehan’s at least), but when they got lonely or they just had that itch they always gravitated back to each other.

Recently they been fucking around a lot more often, and it was for each of them it was for different but similar reasons. They were pining, and pining _hard_. It had been building since Jehan discovered the activist group at their university; they were both in second year but the group was new and started by a load of first years. Immediately this had rang alarm bells for Grantaire, firstly because they were _activists_ (the word was practically a taboo for him even though Jehan had always been crazy for that shit) and secondly because Grantaire tried to avoid first years as much as he avoided activists.

It’s now a year and a half later, Grantaire is halfway through his third year, he has been to every single meeting of Les Amis D’ABC and his fair share of protests and rallies and bake sales and fundraisers and all that other pointless crap. All he got for his trouble was a hopeless crush (who was he kidding it was far more than a crush) and a scar on his forehead from one of the many protests that went wrong.

Yes, his oh so glorious crush. Grantaire hated the word crush, and he spat it out bitterly every time he and Jehan found themselves discussing it in the early hours of the morning. There was really no other word for it that didn’t sound juvenile, but crush was not the right word to describe the ache he got in his chest when he saw Enjolras walk in to a room. It didn’t capture the way his breath caught in his throat as he watched him fly in to an impromptu speech about the injustices of the world. No, the word crush small was too small, too limiting to capture the endless, aching multitudes of feelings he felt for that one golden haired boy. It was like trying to capture the infinite in the finite. Putting a name to those feelings was next to impossible and he really didn’t want to. Defining it would make it so much more real and he’d had to face up to the fact that he had no hope.

Grantaire found himself painting endless sharp jaw line, burning eyes and blond hair. He had at least a dozen sketch books shoved under his bed that were full of sketches, paintings and pastels; all of Apollo incarnate.

He was not like Enjolras though, he didn’t believe that all of the rallies and the petitions would work; he didn’t think that the people would ever get their voices heard. People would always be oppressed and that wasn’t going to change. He had seen enough of it every day of his life; the way his parents didn’t give a fuck about anyone but themselves – they were greedy and ruthless. Grantaire had grown up fairly wealthy and he had taken it for granted, there had been a time where he had tried to encourage his parents to give to charity or a least help with their employees, but all that had achieved was getting him cut off for a while. They took him back eventually but he had never tried to change their ways again, at that time he was too reliant on their money. Grantaire tried to block out the injustices in the world, because he knew he couldn’t do anything about it, but he still saw so much of it and it just _hurt._

Jehan was like him in that way too. To describe him as sensitive wasn’t really correct, sensitive was too flimsy, too flighty. Jehan felt emotions very deeply, and very strongly. Whether it was the way he tumbling head first in to love with every guy he went out with and then wept when it didn’t work out, or when he saw women being mistreated and animals abandoned. He went everywhere with a buried sense of melancholy and often it was only Grantaire that glimpsed it.

There were days when they lay together, sprawled across Grantaire’s large bed with their limbs bare and sweaty. They lay smoking weed, floating on the drugs and the buzz of their orgasms. Jehan often wept openly as he talked endlessly about the things he’d seen, how it hurt and how they were going to fix it. He was a very good speaker and Grantaire ached to believe his melancholy words but he never could. Grantaire knew his job, the same one he’d had for ten years, and he held Jehan when he was at his lowest and revelled in him when he was at his most brilliant.

Recently the nights they spent together revolved around blond boys and Irish boys, the irony of company in loneliness. Jehan was always there for him no matter what, he knew him better than any other person in his life. He always seemed to sense what he needed without him even having to ask. There were nights when Grantaire needed to be used, and Jehan held him down until he whimpered and begged. Jehan was there when he needed soft words whispered in to the crook of his neck and he just needed to be _held_.

Tonight was one of those nights.

Grantaire was sprawled across the bed long pale limbs spread out across the dark sheets, with a sheen of sweat making him glisten. He was face down on the bed with both hands gripping his pillow hard as he attempted to muffle his whimpers. Jehan was all but lying on top of him, pressing skin to skin as he rocked into Grantaire torturously slowly. His long pale fingers where wrapped around Grantaire’s wrists and tightened as Jehan began to pick up the pace.

“P-please Jehan.” Grantaire groaned and spat out the words, he was muffled slightly by the pillow but as Jehan kissed the space between his shoulder blades he knew that the other man had heard him.

“Do you deserve it?” Jehan asked. “Do you deserve to have to this? This special gift I choose to give you? Do you?”

This was a game Jehan liked to play sometimes when Grantaire spent to long staring in the mirror and looked longingly at the silver white scars on his wrist. He would make Grantaire beg and shout until he admitted that he deserved what he had with Jehan. That he deserved to be loved and held and treasured. He was worth something.

It never got as bad as it did in the past, like around the time he finally came out to his parents and they kicked him out for good, but there were days when everything got too much and all he wanted to do was curl up in his bed and cry. Those were the days were Jehan dragged him out and fucked him hard until he remembered what exactly he was worth.

“I deserve it Jehan please, I’ve been so good.”

Jehan’s face was pressed against his neck so Grantaire could feel as his smile grew. He kissed his neck softly a few times before biting down and thrusting in to him hard.

Grantaire didn’t even attempt to hold back his groan as Jehan hit his prostate on the third thrust; he and Jehan shared a flat so they didn’t have to worry about being quiet. Grantaire let out a constant stream of mumbled nonsense and Jehan slowed down enough to tease. He circled his hips and began to grind against him, and in his desperation Grantaire tried to trust against the sheets to get the friction he desperately needed on his cock.

Jehan must have noticed as his next words were “Hands and knees. Now.”

Grantaire didn’t hesitate in his compliance – he would have been an idiot to even think about being slow. Jehan pulled out and slapped his arse hard enough to leave an angry red mark, Grantaire let out a low moan as he scrambled to his knees.

Without warning Jehan thrust back in with a low giggle, not slowly down in the slightest, he was unrelenting and Grantaire was a trembling mess. Struggling to hold his weigh on unsteady arms he started to bed.

“Please Jehan. I need you to touch me … oh god… please just do _something_.” He was whimpering and he knew that his lips would be bitten raw by time he was done.

“What was that?” Jehan asked sweetly, and even though Grantaire couldn’t see his face he knew what Jehan’s face would look like – he would have that damn smirk painted on his face and his milky white skin would be flushed making the freckles on his face stand out even more. Grantaire knew that there would be strands of ginger hair plastered to his face and neck, wet with sweat.

“Oh you asshole.” He managed to grunt out. “Please Jehan, touch me.”

Jehan just hummed and he snaked one of his skinny hands round and started to gently cup his balls. Grantaire tried in earnest to move his hips further into the touch but the other hand on his hip held him in place.

“What do we say when we want something?”

“Please Jehan, I deserve this. I deserve this you teasing little shit.”

Jehan’s laugh was full bodied now. He gripped Grantaire’s cock and started to stroke him firmly in time with his thrusts.

Grantaire knew he wouldn’t last much longer, not after being held for so long on the knife edge of release. He told Jehan this and the other boy just sped up, never ceasing in his movements, pushing both of them barrelling towards their orgasms.

“F-Fuck Grantaire.”

Jehan stroked him once more and that was all it took to push him over the edge. He groaned and shouted out Jehan’s name and he felt the glorious high surround him, his vision whited around the edges as he fought to stay aware. Grantaire could feel Jehan’s grip on him tightening and he was distantly aware of the other man coming inside of him, but he was too busy soaking up his own high to focus on it intently.

Finally Jehan pulled out and Grantaire was able to turn over. It was then he looked up to see a bewildered looking man in the doorway.

“Enjolras?” Grantaire all but shrieked, and desperately searched for something to cover them or at least hide the come on his chest. He had no idea how long Enjolras had been standing there but there was no hiding what was going on. Jehan hadn’t said anything but he was covered in a deep blush from head to toe.

Enjolras’ shocked face quickly crumpled into a scowl, an obvious look of disgust, and he turned on his heels and ran out of their apartment despite Grantaire’s shouts.

Grantaire fell back against the bed and it was only as Jehan curled up next to him he felt safe enough to let the tears fall.


	2. Romantic Fatigue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras ran, never stopping - not to rest or to think. He just couldn't stop the images. The sounds. The thoughts. Thoughts of Grantaire and Jehan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> once again - I'm sorry for any grammar or spelling mistakes.
> 
> Thank you all for such a great response to the first chapter! I wasn't expecting that. Also, I'm going away on Monday so there won't be any updates for at least two weeks.

Enjolras ran straight out of Jehan and Grantaire’s flat – fuck, they were _living_ together – he ran straight down the stairs, and then he ran straight back to his flat not caring that it was a mile away. He didn’t know why he did; he just knew he could not stay in that flat any longer he needed to just _get away_.

The images of what he’d seen kept flashing in the forefront of his mind in constant parade that he couldn’t seem to stop no matter how hard he tried. He kept seeing Jehan’s flushed back, slick with the sweat of exertion, and his messy auburn hair. That wasn’t even the worst of it, he could _hear_ them.  It was a constant loop around and around, Grantaire’s raspy voice, the sound of flesh on flesh, Grantaire’s broken moans, Jehan’s quiet direction, Grantaire’s whimpers, Grantaire’s _everything_.

Enjolras tried to shake himself out of the self-inflicted torture, it wasn’t like this was the first time he had stumbled upon one of his friends having sex (after all this he had shared a flat with Courfeyrac in their first year) but this was the first time it had affected him in such a way. The whole experience had been strange, surreal as if a dream. If he were being honest with himself he couldn’t even remember how he came to be at the door to Grantaire’s bedroom.

He remembered hearing a loud noise, as if pained, when he let himself into their flat. Enjolras had walked transfixed towards the source of the sound, being naïve enough not to recognise the moans for what they were. When he slowly pushed open the door he nearly shouted out loud, but he slapped a hand over his mouth just in time – it seemed Grantaire and Jehan were too caught up in what they were doing to notice him anyway. Enjolras stood in that door for longer than he would like to admit, but he had no idea why, he knew he should turn and run before they spotted him. He was aware what he was doing was wrong, but there was something holding him there, it had him in its grips. Gripped so tight he could barely breathe, Enjolras had no choice but to just watch.

When he finally snapped out of it and saw Grantaire’s panicked face staring back at him he knew he had to get away, but internally Enjolras knew it was too late, that pained expression was burned on his mind. It wasn’t just that, he had discovered their little secret, whatever relationship they had together was out in the open now and there was no taking that back.

The realisation that they were most likely in a relationship left Enjolras feeling numb. It was with this feeling spreading throughout him that he entered his flat, and didn’t even acknowledge Combeferre and Courfeyrac who were sitting on the sofas.

“Enjolras?” Combeferre asked tentatively as he rose slowly from his seat.

Enjolras barely heard him however and just sat down in his favourite armchair in a daze. He didn’t know how long he was phased out for, but soon enough Courfeyrac started gently shaking him.

“What?” he snapped, scowl on his face – which only lasted a second before he realised they weren’t the ones he was mad at.

“Woah man, what is going on with you?” Courfeyrac asked. “You look like a mess.”

Combeferre rolled his eyes. “ While crassly put, Courf is right. You look really pale. Are you sick?”

“No.”

“Then what is it? Because you really do look terrible.” Combeferre’s face looked sympathetic, but calm. Enjolras knew he could trust him but he could quite find the words, he was still have troubling processing everything by himself, there wasn’t really any way for him to convey it too them.

“Um, I… saw something.” He started. Courfeyrac’s eyes widened and he stood up at once.

“This is just like the start of a horror film, I swear to god Enjolras if you get me killed because of this I will never forgive you. Unless it’s an awesome death scene. I want slow mo and everything.”

Both Enjolras and Combeferre glared at him until he sat back down, fortunately Enjolras was aware enough to do that at least.

“Look erm, I went round to Grantaire and Jehan’s place cause I wanted to see if Grantaire would make us some flyers, and I know he’s always more compliant if I catch him alone. Anyway I went round a-and I heard something and I went into his room and there they were … fucking.” He spat the last word out bitterly, like it was going to leave a bad taste in his mouth.

He could feel his hands shaking slightly and he bent forward to run his hands through his hair, he teased his fingers through it, hoping to tame it slightly to calm himself.

“Who were fucking?” Combeferre looked slightly confused and had a small frown on his forehead.

“Grantaire and Jehan.” Enjolras admitted, he leant back in his chair feeling defeated. He only hoped they heard his whisper because he really didn’t want to repeat it any more than they had.

He looked up just in time to see Courfeyrac’s face twist in a way he’d never seen before, the usual easy grin disappearing for a moment. Enjolras also saw the worried look he shot him; there was a question in his eyes, one that Courfeyrac didn’t answer.

“What did you do?” Combeferre asked quietly, like he was talking to a child.

“Ran away.”

Courfeyrac was strangely quiet, usually when anyone mentioned sex he was in his element, but no jokes were made he just sat there looking at Enjolras. Well, looking at wasn’t really the right phrase; Courfeyrac appeared to be looking right through him – he was there in body but not in spirit.

“Are you okay?” again the question came quietly, Combeferre was talking to him as though he was fragile – it would only take one wrong word to shatter him.

“Yes, why wouldn’t I be?”

“Enjolras you have been shaking since you got in, you are in a daze – barely processing any of this conversation. I bet you ran all the way here didn’t you?”

Enjolras felt sheepish, he really did feel like a child as Combeferre scolded him. He shrank back into his chair and tried to think clearly through the thickening mist of his mind. It was frustrating; he had no idea why he was acting this way. Enjolras had already prided himself on being logical, he saw problems and solved them – but this, this was different. His mind was whirling he couldn’t grasp any particular thought for any longer than a second, it was like his mind was spinning and he was trapped in the centre of it.

“Why do I feel like this?” he whispered. At his soft words Courfeyrac suddenly snapped out of his musings and came and sat on the floor in front of his chair – practically on Combeferre's feet although the other man didn’t mention it.

“Enjolras what’s really bothering you, cause I know it’s not that you stumbled upon some sex, cause god knows you’ve seen me enough – you lucky bastard.” Courfeyrac looked at him with sympathetic eyes; warm chocolate brown remaining steady as he looked at him.

“I-I don’t even know. I just had no idea he was with Jehan, I knew they were close but I never expect t-this? They live together, and they’ve been together for longer than any of us have known them. They’ve probably been dating for all that time.” he thought out loud, his words flowing now as if they had never been restrained.

“Why didn’t he tell me.” He added quietly as almost an afterthought. This what his friends picked up on the most, Courfeyrac put his hand on his knee and Combeferre went to the kitchen to make them all some tea.

“Look Enjolras, I know you are really naïve about this kind of stuff, but please don’t make me spell this out for you.”

“What do you mean?” Enjolras was genuinely puzzled at Courfeyrac’s strange question. Combeferre reappeared just in time to save him from more awkwardness.

“What he mean, Enjolras, is why do you think you are focussing so much on this? Why is it this particular … pairing that is causing you so much trouble?” Combeferre cringed at his own phrasing but Enjolras didn’t seem to notice.

Enjolras was too busy in his own thoughts once again to pay attention to the silent conversation going on with his two best friends.

He kept replaying the scene over and over again in his head; he could see it so vividly it was painful. The way that Grantaire’s inky curls were stuck to his forehead, his usually pale skin was blotchy and red with a faint blush, apart from that his skin was smooth and perfect. It stretched over his lithe form, the lightly muscled body that obviously belonged to a dancer. His body was graceful but there was still power there. Enjolras could remember his face the most vividly though, the way his pink lips were swollen and bitten, his eyes were wide – partly from shock and partly from the lingering arousal he supposed. His irises were as bright and piercing as usual, they were always the first thing Enjolras looked at – the spark of intelligence that was always there no matter how alcohol threatened to mute it.

_Oh god. That’s what it was._

_Oh._

_Well._

“I’m in love with Grantaire.” He whispered.

 

 


	3. Tell Tale Signs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras is left reeling from his recent revalation and find it hard to control his mouth. Combeferre is once again everyone's rock - especially Courfeyrac. Grantaire and Enjolras see each other for the first time since "the incident".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's taken so long to update! I've been on holiday and things have been hectic since I've been back. I'll try and be better with the next chapter! (Also thank you for all the feedback I'm glad everyone is enjoying it so much!)
> 
> Sorry for any spelling/grammar mistakes.

Enjolras stood up abruptly after his revelation and made a gurgled screeching sort of sound, then promptly turned on his heels and ran to his bedroom where he shut himself up. Combeferre looked at the bedroom door (which he was surprised was still hanging on after the way Enjolras slammed it) and after he decided he wasn’t coming out again he swung his head back round to where Courfeyrac was sitting – and trying his hardest not to look upset.

Combeferre knew he was failing miserably, by the way there were tears starting to form in the corners of his eyes, and he had bitten his lips raw. He knew that everything he could say would be clichéd and Courfeyrac wouldn’t believe him, but Combeferre knew had he had to try something.

“Are you okay?” he asked tentatively.

Courfeyrac looked up at him and met his concerned gaze, and Combeferre felt his heart break slightly. Usually he managed to remain composed and logical when his friends were upset, but Courfeyrac was his best friend (aside from Enjolras) and he rarely saw him hurt this bad. Courfeyrac was generally a very happy person, he had a lot of love inside of him and he couldn’t help but let it spill out. He trusted and loved easily, but apart from with his friends this love was never deep; Courfeyrac flitted from person to person experiencing them and loving them and moving on – never getting hurt and usually never hurting in return.

However Combeferre knew something had changed in recent months, he was the only one that Courfeyrac had confided in because he didn’t want anyone else to make fun of him. Courfeyrac was in love. Properly in love. Not just a passing infatuation with a pretty face, but fully fledged sonnets-picnics-and-commitment love. It was almost ironic that Jean Prouvaire – the very personification of a Romantic – would be the one Courfeyrac would fall for. He still remembers the night when Courfeyrac told him about his feelings; he barged into his apartment and unceremoniously dumped an armful of wild flowers on to Combeferre’s desk.

_“I can’t do this anymore.”_

_“What? Single-handedly kill off the local bee population?”_

_“No. Can’t you see?”_

_“You’re going to have to help me out here Courf.”_

_“I’m_ pining _.”_

_“For hayfever?”_

_“Jehan. I’m pining for Prouvaire. EVERYWHERE I LOOK I SEE THINGS THAT REMIND ME OF HIM.”_

_“Courf, do you have feelings for him?”_

_“Feelings? You think this is about feelings? I love him, I love his hair, his freckles, his god awful fashion sense, his words, his eyes, his intelligence, his – his –_ soul _.”_

_…_

_“Have you been reading poetry?”_

_“Only a little.”_

Courfeyrac had actually given all the flowers to Jehan, who naturally adored them. It was interesting for him to watch these interactions, Courfeyrac missed the way Jehan blushed and in turn he missed the way that Courfeyrac tried to tame his usually crude behaviour. He had thought that Jehan returned Courf’s feelings, but in light of recent events … evidently not.

“I am okay? What do you think.” Courfeyrac spat out. As hard as it was, Combeferre tried not to take his venom to heart.

“I actually thought he might love me back.” Courfeyrac whispered quietly, so quietly that Combeferre nearly didn’t hear him.

For once in his life, Combeferre was at a loss. He hadn’t a clue what was going on, so instead of obsessing over the very few facts they had he did the only thing he could do and sat next to Courfeyrac and held him as he sobbed quietly.

* * *

 

“He hates me.”

Grantaire was lying on the floor of their shared living room staring up at the ceiling; Jehan watched his sprawled form from his much more comfortable perch on the sofa.

“Why would he hate you? Sex is a beautiful and natural act.” Jehan replied sweetly.

“Not the kind of sex we were having! We were fucking, it’s not like we were making love. Oh god I bet I looked pathetic.” He threw his hands up and covered his face, as if this act would shield him from Enjolras’ judging eyes. Those crystalline eyes carried so much emotion and power they burned into him. Grantaire can vividly remember that look of confusion, disgust and anger. Every time he closed his eyes he could see it, he couldn’t even imagine all the things that that the blond man was thinking.

“You are not pathetic.” Jehan said sharply, standing up as he did. Before Grantaire had chance to move Jehan was straddling him and looking down at him fiercely.

“We will sort this Grantaire. We can go to the meeting tonight and pretend nothing happened, or we can tell them about our arrangement or we can pretend to be in a relationship. Whatever the hell you want Grantaire. We. Will. Fix. This.”

Grantaire stared up at him; his eyes were wide – part with shock of Jehan’s sudden sharpness, and part with awe. He always got like this when Jehan took charge and pushed him around, he found himself dumbstruck, unable to form proper sentences and think rationally.

 “Maybe – we can do it once more – for old time’s sake?” Grantaire asked slyly, trying his best to look up at Jehan with a demure and innocent expression on his face.

Jehan just giggled and bent over, capturing Grantaire’s lips in a sweet soft kiss. It was gentle and kind – everything Grantaire knew their sex wouldn’t be. He relished in it, knowing what was coming and forgetting all his other worries Grantaire let himself go pliant as Jehan took care of him.

* * *

 

To say Enjolras was tense as he entered the Musain was an understatement. It was a physical feeling as well as a mental one, he could feel his muscles tightening and quivering with the strain.

He was flanked on each side by Combeferre and Courfeyrac, who had both warned him to be nice at the meeting, and to try and not cause any trouble or embarrass Jehan and Grantaire. Why would he anyway, it wasn’t his place to tell anyone even if it was burning him up inside.

All his life people had told him he was smart, he knew he was exceptionally clever and he had always prided himself on that knowledge. There had never been a time until now when he had thought of himself as so god damn _stupid_. He felt like an idiot; an oblivious, naïve idiot. How could he have missed so much? How could he have missed Grantaire when the obnoxious fool never left his sights? Enjolras despaired, it was too late now – Grantaire had Jehan, if there had ever been any chance at all of them being together it was long, long gone by now. He mourned that chance, it had flickered and died before he even had a chance to realise it was there. Now here he was, stuck between his two best friends as he tried to get a handle on his spirally emotions.

He needed to stay in control if he wanted this meeting to actually count for something, Enjolras wasn’t about to let his work get ruined by these stupid feelings. Ironically, it was always Enjolras that criticised members for letting emotions and feelings of love get in the way of more important things and now here he was – doing exactly what he said he never would.

As things went it didn’t look like he was going to have too much trouble with this meeting as Jehan and Grantaire weren’t there yet. It was unusual for either of them to miss a meeting, but Enjolras guessed they were embarrassed about being caught, and wanted to wait till things cooled off. If it was just Grantaire that wasn’t here he wouldn’t be surprised, he rarely missed a meeting but he was late more often than not. Jehan on the other hand was usually one the first people there; he’d curl up with a book and camp out at their usual table. Enjolras frowned and tried not to let it bother him, instead trying to focus on working out why Courfeyrac was chewing his lip so intently.

“Am I reading this wrong or is there something up?” he asked carefully, it was a well-known fact that he wasn’t the best person at picking up onbody language but he really thought he’d nailed it this time.

Courfeyrac just looked at him with a sad smile on his face. “You’re not wrong mate.”

Well at least he was right.

“Do you want to … talk about it?” Enjolras was careful because he knew he was awful at comfort and social conventions and all that crap.

This time Courfeyrac laughed, forming line and crinkles around his eyes. “Not on my life Enjy. You need to sort out your shit first before you save me too.”

Enjolras smiled slightly at that and patted him awkwardly on his back.

“Well I am always er here for you.”

“Enjolras please stop before you injure yourself.” Combeferre interrupted. “Nearly everyone is here, let’s get started.”

It didn’t escape his notice that Combeferre had pointedly avoided mentioning which two members weren’t there, but he didn’t comment. Enjolras just nodded and headed towards his usual spot at the head of their long table.

* * *

 

Ten minutes later he was in the full force of his speech when out of the corner of his eye he saw Grantaire and Jehan trying the climb up the stairs without anyone noticing. Obviously this plan didn’t work. Enjolras lost his train of thought as his eyes fell fully on Grantaire, it was the first time he’d seen him in the flesh since the _incident_ and he wasn’t sure what to think. The only coherent thought he had was to try and stop the blush, which is probably why he didn’t think through what he did next.

“Are you two even going to apologise for being late?” he spat.

“Hey chill man, we were literally only fifteen minutes late. It’s not the end of the world.” Grantaire said slowly, his hands out in front of him as though he was trying to subdue a rabid animal.

“Maybe if you weren’t too busy fucking Jehan you’d actually be able to do something usual for once, like maybe _be on time_.”

Enjolras regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth, and judging by the reactions of everyone else they were as shocked with him as he was. Combeferre stared at him coldly and he felt himself shrinking back under the weight of it; his eyes flicked back to Grantaire whose shocked face quickly masked over with an expression of anger.

“Grantaire I-“

“Save it _Apollo._ ” He spat out the nickname like a curse. “First of all, it is none of your business what me and Jehan do – you do not know anything about our relationship.”

Courfeyrac’s faced paled at the mention of a relationship, his worst fears being realised (he didn’t stop to think that Grantaire didn’t literally mean they were in a relationship). Grantaire however, didn’t stop for breath or pause for dramatic effect so he could look around at the way all of their friends were trying to not to look alarmed.

“And second of all, I’m done. I am sick of you looking down at me like I’m a piece of shit, judging me because I am actually human and I indulge in carnal activities. We can’t all be Achilles, perfect, untouchable and arrogant. Some of us Patroclus, I may not be perfect – far from it, I am well past fucked up – but at least I care about my friends.”

Grantaire finished his speech and by the look of it, it had taken a lot out of him. He was slightly breathless and looked flushed; he took a look around at the shocked faces of his friends and his face softened slightly.

“I’m sorry guys; I will er catch up with you all later? Um, I just need to go.” His words trailed off and he looked at the ground. Grantaire had calmed down, and walked out of the room without another word; the only thing he did do before he disappeared was turn back to Enjolras and lock eyes with him.

Enjolras swear he felt something inside of him break then; it wasn’t just what Grantaire had said to him. No, while it hurt – most of it was true. What hurt was the broken look in Grantaire’s eyes, the way he looked shattered and lost – and all of it was his fault.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again the chapter title is a Frank Turner song.  
> Twitter - @drh0rrible


	4. A Decent Cup of Tea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras suffers the consequences of his argument with Grantaire.
> 
> Jehan clears up some confusions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it's taken so long for this chapter, actually been pretty busy lately.
> 
> Sorry for any grammar or spelling mistakes, I haven't checked through and it's pretty late here.

Enjolras didn’t know what to say, he knew he had to say something but all the pointless, meaningless words had gotten stuck in his throat. Unfortunately none of his other friends had this problem. Jehan’s fury was painted all over his face, and his eyes were fixed on Enjolras. Slowly, without any haste he made his way over the where their leader was standing, without so much as a word he punched him hard.

Trying to keep his composure was a battle he easily lost as he stumbled back into his chair. Tears were already forming in Enjolras’ eyes but he knew it wasn’t just because of the physical pain.

“You have no right to speak to him that way. You treat him like shit and he keeps crawling back for some god forsaken reason. No right whatsoever.” Jehan’s words are hard and cold, much like his own, but it’s a tone he has never heard him use before.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers, it’s breathed out a more of a private confession than an apology but Jehan still hears. His expression softens very slightly.

“I know you are.” It’s spoken sadly, but it still means the world to him. When he looks up Jehan is walking out of the door – presumably to go find Grantaire.

Enjolras barely held back tears, he kept his eyes trained to the floor – the last thing he needed now was for everyone else to see him crying; (part of him knew that there was no way that his friends were oblivious but his pride didn’t allow him to think about that).

“The meeting is over.” His words sounded strangled even to his own ears. Enjolras didn’t want to look up and see the faces of anger and pity, but he had no idea what to do with himself. How did he fuck things up so much so fast? Luckily Combeferre took charge before he had an actual breakdown.

“Guys, honestly I don’t really know what the protocol is now, but obviously um it would be better if we just separate for now. But everyone is still more than welcome at mine tomorrow night as planned for the monthly movie night.” He was trying his hardest to stay calm that was apparent. Enjolras was more grateful than he could say for his best friend at that moment.

From his perch – with his face buried in his palms – Enjolras could hear a few people (Feuilly, Marius and Joly he thought) mumble their goodbyes, and someone who was definitely Bahorel pat him on the shoulder. Apart from that everyone else just wandered out awkwardly, although he was kind of pleased about that. Before he knew it Enjolras wasn’t alone, he could feel combeferre’s presence to his side. When he eventually looked up, his best friend was there smiling softly at him.

“I didn’t mean to, you know I didn’t they just came in together and I just-” Enjolras was babbling, all the words that he wanted to keep bottled up and the endless emotions attached just spilled out. It was the battle of years, he realised then, these weren’t new feelings that had been born out of some insane jealously – it had been a slow burn over the years he’d known Grantaire only he was too naïve to notice.

“Hey, hey it’s okay. Just breathe.” Combeferre’s voice was smooth and calm, the man sounded like he was already a doctor and had been for years.

“How long have you known I’ve been in love with Grantaire?”

Combeferre chuckled slightly at this. “Do you remember the first Christmas we had together? Our first year at uni? When Grantaire gave you that red leather organiser and your face lit up – not that you noticed – but we were all pretty much sure then. I guess it wasn’t always love I think as soon as you started listening to what he was actually saying you had this begrudging respecting for him, and I guess it just grew from there.”

Enjolras still had that organiser – even though he didn’t need it anymore – it was beautiful and high quality; he remembers it being a life saver for him in his first year. He also remembered the day Grantaire gave it to him, he recalls easily how surprised he was that Grantaire had bothered to get him such a thoughtful gift – he even knew his favourite guilty. The twinge of guilt he felt when he realised he didn’t get him a gift was still felt now.

“Why did it take this to realise how I felt? I love Jehan; I mean if he’s with Grantaire I’m happy for him they’re good together I guess… I just don’t know what to do.” His voice trailed off and he got lost in his thoughts once again.

Combeferre watched him carefully, neither Jehan nor Grantaire had confirmed they were in a relationship, they had definitely had sex and they were definitely close but none of these things meant they were together. It would have been odd for both of them to keep it a secret, as neither of them was exactly shy – and Combeferre knew for a fact he’d seen both of the men with other people in the last few months.

It hadn’t sat right with him since it was first speculated they were in a relationship, Combeferre didn’t tell Enjolras his doubts though he didn’t want to get his friend’s hopes up. There was nothing he could do in that moment except comfort him.

* * *

 

Jehan walked out of the café as quickly as he could without actually running, and to put it simply he was pissed. Well pissed and slightly pitying.

Grantaire was at the forefront of his mind, the welfare of his best friend was always going to be what concerned him post but Enjolras was still his friend and Jehan cared for all of his friends. Enjolras and Grantaire were famed for their ‘discussions’ and both of them had exchanged their fair share insults and hurtful words; but today was something different.

He’d never seen Enjolras be so intentially cruel, but then again he’d never seen his eyes full of so much emotion. Passion, yes. They had all seen the fiery blaze of Enjolras’ eyes once he really got going. However Jehan hadn’t ever seen such a swirling tirade in his eyes before, it was a pain and melancholy Jehan was familiar with. The look of loneliness and the aching heart that had never quite been whole. Unless he was reading things wrong, Enjolras was in love.

If he would have been a more rational and logical person he would have written it off, but he knew it when he saw it. He recognised the agony of the all-consuming emotions, from sonnets and ballads and fleeting verses; and of course his own face.

Even if it wasn’t for Courfeyrac, Jehan was in love with the world. It was his purpose he thought, to love and to write about it. Love wasn’t flowers and puppies and rainbows, it was sometimes so pure and blinding it ached. Other times it was corrupt and it burnt and used up everything in its path.

So lost in his thoughts was Jehan that he didn’t even realise he was already back at his flat, not that it was exactly far. At least he should be able to catch up with Grantaire before he did anything too stupid.

“Fuck.” He exclaimed as he rooted around in the very limited space in the pockets of his skinny jeans. It was then he remembered that as they had come out together, Jehan thought he’d be okay without his key and left with only Grantaire’s.

“Grantaire?” He shouted as he banged on the door. “Grantaire can you open the door, I locked myself out.”

Jehan carried on banging on the door and shouting for a further five minutes until he accepted defeat, he tried ringing Grantaire and he could hear the ringtone through the door so at least he knew where Grantaire was. There was a spare key, although the person who had the key he wasn’t much looking forward to seeing them. However, faced with the possibility of camping on his doorstep, it didn’t seem like Jehan had much of a choice.

“Um hey Courfeyrac.” He said apprehensively down the crackly line.

_“Er hi Jehan, are you okay?”_ his words were slightly awkward but otherwise still friendly.

“Yeah I’m fine, it’s just I’m locked out of my apartment and Grantaire’s in there and … and he’s not answering I mean he might just be asleep but-”

_“Hey, hey I understand. I’ll be over as soon as I can with the key. Sit tight I’ll be there in about fifteen minutes.”_

“Thank you.” He said before hanging up, and there was a small smile growing on his face. Just from one tiny phone call. He groaned and sank to the floor as he did, leaning against the door.

He was still in this position when Courfeyrac arrived, although he nearly jumped out of his skin because he didn’t hear him approach; which was abnormal due to the fact Courfeyrac practically had fanfare everywhere he went to announce his arrival.

“Got the key man.” He held it up to prove his point. Jehan smiled gratefully, too weary to work up to a grin.

They went in to flat together, neither of them spoke to each other, not wanting to disturb the silence of the room. Jehan couldn’t be cautious anymore after a quick scan of the living room he ran into Grantaire’s room. The man in question was curled up in a ball on the bed with an empty whiskey bottle next to him that he was certain wasn’t there this morning.

Jehan looked around the room but he couldn’t see anything but that one bottle, it was unlikely he’d actually passed out or hurt himself. Just drank too much and fell asleep, Jehan sighed in relief as he practically skipped into the kitchen and got a glass of water and some painkillers. He hadn’t realised just how worried he was, Jehan had being running so many different situations and scenarios through his head in those brief few minutes. A vivid imagination wasn’t always the best thing.

When he re-emerged into the living room Courfeyrac was still there, waiting awkwardly and pretending to be thoroughly interested in the bookshelf. He spun around quickly and blushed as soon as he heard Jehan come and laugh.

“Is he okay?”

“Yeah, he’s asleep but he should be fine. Enjolras really did his damage this time.” he mused.

“By the look of the mark you left of Enjolras’ face, so did you.” Courfeyrac quipped back, sniggering slightly. Jehan sat down on the sofa, gesturing that Courfeyrac should do the same as the standing across from each other thing was making things even more awkward.

“Um yeah, I did feel bad about that. I mean he deserved it, but he was genuinely sorry for what he said and he looked terrible even before I punched him.”

“He’s er recently had a revelation thanks to his discovery.” Courfeyrac explained loosely, cringing at his own wording and waving slightly.

“Y-you mean, when he saw me and Grantaire.” Jehan elaborated, although he refused to blush – as he didn’t feel any shame.

“Yeah I mean you and Grantaire being … together, hit him pretty hard.” Courfeyrac found it hard to get the words out but he knew he had to. Jehan kept staring at him like he wanted him to elaborate further but how was Courfeyrac supposed to tell the guy he loved that their mutual friend was in love with the guy _he_ was currently in a relationship with.

It was like a freaking soap opera.

“Look Jehan, I don’t want to be the guy who tells you this – I mean our group is complicated enough without me pointing our potential rivals for you boyfriend’s affection but I-”

Jehan’s eyes shot up. “What? Boyfriend?”

“Grantaire?” Courfeyrac explained, confused as he was about Jehan’s feigned ignorance he couldn’t quite stop the glimmer of hope he felt.

“What? You guys think – _oh_ , oh god this explains so much. Grantaire is not my boyfriend, we have sex sometimes when we need to blow off steam or we need to be close or even just need some help with thinking. It’s complicated, the way we work. We’ve been friends so long it’s just convenient now; it’s not like there’s any actual romantic feelings.” Jehan explained quickly, his emotions coming to the forefront as he frantically tried to clear things up. He couldn’t bear Courfeyrac of all people thinking that he was involved with someone else.

“Y-you’re not with Grantaire?” Courfeyrac’s eyes were wide, and he hoped that he was managed to keep a gleeful look off of his face.

“No.” Jehan laughed. “And we’ve decided to stop the friends with benefits thing as well. It makes things easier.”

Courfeyrac couldn’t quite believe his luck, no matter what else had happened only one thing mattered: Jehan wasn’t with Grantaire. He had hope, no matter how small that glimmer of hope was – it was still there.

He could work with that, he thought as a grin spread across his face.

“How about we watch a movie?”


	5. Losing Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grantaire wakes up with a hangover and goes over his current state, and Enjolras battles with himself. Words are exchanged and communication takes a turn for the better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been a very long time since I updated I know, I'm sorry. Things have been hectic, I'm back at college and this is a very important year for me. Also writers block has been a bitch.
> 
> As usual I'm sorry for any and all grammar/spelling mistakes.

Once he woke up, complete with a pounding head and a terrible taste in his mouth, Grantaire laid in bed for as long as he thought he could without someone coming in to check on him. While he was laying there he felt a calm come over him, it was a feeling he was unaccustomed too; although he figured it was just the aftershocks of the intense emotions he had gone through the night before.

He looked down at himself and groaned at the sight of the tent between his legs. Even when he had had one of the worst days in a long time his dick still managed to act as though everything was hunky fucking dory. Grantaire tried to will it away, but it wasn’t flagging at all. Somewhere inside of him he knew that this would be the perfect way to relieve some of the frustration still buzzing around his body, bubbling away under the surface.

Slowly he let his hands slip down under his sheets and tease slightly as his cock, ghosting over its length. He whimpered slightly as he grasped his dick fully, stroking slowly. Grantaire adjusted himself on the bed and kicked away the sheets confining him; it only took him a moment to grab the lube that he’d left stashed under his pillow. With the lube the dry friction melted away and Grantaire started to stroke in earnest.

As he cleared his mind he tried to picture himself fucking some tall dark guy, he would have to be built like he was anything that was the opposite of… of _him_. Grantaire screwed his eyes shut and tried desperately to hold on to the fleeting fantasy, it was weak at best and so it didn’t really take a lot for it to fade away and be replaced by a vision of gold, pale skin and lithe body. The previous scene melted away and instead he saw the Musain.

Enjolras was up close, he could still feel the heat of the argument – the tension between them had grown in his mind. Inches in front of him Enjolras’ eyes were wide and his red lips were parted as he panted slightly, instead of storming out of the café Grantaire grabbed his neck and pulled him down into a harsh kiss. Immediately Enjolras melted against him, his lips opened for him and gently he pushed forward with his tongue, a completely different kind of kiss to the one only seconds before. They moved together in such perfect synchronisation it was a shame when they had to part.

Grantaire moved them roughly, pushing Enjolras down on to the table, surprisingly he went down willingly. Looking down on to the vision of a dream Enjolras, spread out from him looking absolutely debauched and wanting, Grantaire could feel himself getting close. Enjolras looked up at him with a gaze full of lust, and smirked slightly. He looked like the personification of sex; then his slim fingers trailed down his own body until they reached the trapped cock hidden behind a layer of sinfully tight denim.

“Take me Grantaire. Use me love.” whispered the vision. That was all it took, Grantaire came hard with a choked moan. He kept stroking himself until the aftershocks died down and the sensitivity was too much.

Lying there, chest still heaving from the intense orgasm, Grantaire realised that yet again he couldn’t keep thoughts of Enjolras at bay. Even though he was still royally pissed at the man, Grantaire couldn’t help but feel the attraction … the love.

He hated himself, the man was cruel to him – to Jehan even, but why couldn’t he stop feeling this way? Why couldn’t he purge himself of these poisonous feelings? They were eating him from the inside out, destroying him and turning him against everything. The eyes of an artist that once would have seen things in bright hues, now only saw the blinding light of his sun and nothing else. Everything else had dimmed in comparison, it hurt to look at him but it wasn’t worth looking away anymore.

Slowly Grantaire lifted himself out of bed, set on trying to salvage something of this day. At any rate he had to speak to Jehan, he knew he had worried his best friend and had to apologise. His muscles ached but at least the headache had subsided slightly, the first thing he had to do was get some coffee.

Grantaire padded into out of his room, slowly and quietly, he didn’t know if Jehan was up yet or not but he didn’t want to wake him up if he wasn’t. Once he reached the kitchen and set about looking for his favourite mug he noticed the strangest sight.

On the sofa, sprawled out, was Courfeyrac. It wasn’t the first time his friend had crashed at theirs without asking and it definitely wouldn’t be the last; the strange part however was Jehan lying on top of him. Both were entangled but fully clothed, so Grantaire assumed that Jehan hadn’t stepped up and confessed to Courfeyrac the way that he felt. Either way it was stupidly cute, it was also an intimate and private moment. Which was he felt perfectly justified in taking a photo of the oblivious pair.

Chuckling to himself and with a newly found good mood, Grantaire took his coffee and a pack of cookies and headed towards his “studio” (the shitty box room he used to paint).

* * *

 

Enjolras glared at his laptop like it had personally offended him. The empty word document was looking back at him, mocking him as the cursor blinked. Try as he might the words wouldn’t come, he had planned this essay numerous times and had gone over the words again and again but still they eluded him. It wasn’t like he had an exceptionally close deadline; he just wanted to get it out of the way. The frustrating part was that the only words that seemed to stick in his mind were _Grantaire_ and _You Need To Apologise_. Unsurprisingly the voice behind the words sounded like Combeferre.

The friend in question was currently waiting in line for their drinks, and even then his eyes were full of concern. Combeferre had a freakish ability to sense his mood, and act accordingly. This mood called for good tea, good cake and lots of it.

“If you stare any harder at that thing it may well explode.”

Enjolras didn’t even dignify Combeferre with a response, just glared at him instead of the laptop. At least the man had brought him his favourite lemon cupcake.

“Do you want to talk about it? We know what happens when you bottle things up don’t we.” Combeferre said slyly, with one arched eyebrow. Enjolras carried on picking at his food, trying to think of what to say.

“Use your words.” He teased.

“I can’t write this essay.” Enjolras offered but he knew Combeferre wouldn’t go for it. His friend just kept looking at him with that knowing expression that infuriated him so much.

“Come on. When have you ever not been able to write an essay without a decent reason?”

“I can’t think of the words … I just can’t think of anything except – except him.” he whispered softly, the last words barely audible.

“I keep thinking of the way his face fell, he looked so broken and it’s all my fault. It’s not even the first time is it? I always do this, I don’t think about the effect I have. All I can think of his how much I want him, how I’ve lost my chance.” He was rambling, but he didn’t care. All he could see was the light in Grantaire’s eyes, and how something died when he was so cruel.

“Even if he did want me, I couldn’t put him through that. Me in a relationship would be terrible, I can barely keep functioning friendships let alone dating someone.” His confession was quiet but powerful, he could feel the dream of him and Grantaire slipping away. It left him feeling empty, but the need to make things right between them was still as strong as ever.

“I think you shouldn’t give up so easily. Enjolras you’ve never been through this before, I’ve seen you be attracted to people before but I’ve never seen you have such a need to act on it. I haven’t ever seen you like someone like this.” Looking fondly at his oldest friend, Combeferre continued.

“I think the reason you can be so cruel is because you don’t know how to handle these feelings. I mean it’s only been a couple of days since you even realised you had feelings for him, do you honestly think those repressed feelings would have been released healthily in the past? You’ve had this attractive, the tension so buried and it was bound to come out in one way or another.”

He was right. Of course he was. He always was. Enjolras groaned and buried his head in his hands, chastising himself for being so oblivious.

“Even if that’s right, if we would have had a chance as a couple – that chance is gone. Grantaire has Jehan now.”

“Enjolras you don’t know that, you know they had sex, that’s all. Nothings final. You need to ask him directly about it. No more confusion, no more miscommunication and running away. You have to face this head on and here is your golden opportunity.”

Before he had a chance to ask Combeferre what he was on about, he lifted his head and was greeted to the sight of Grantaire walking in the front door. He hadn’t spotted them yet; and before Enjolras knew what he was doing, his legs had lifted him up off of his chair and were carrying over to where Grantaire was standing, looking around aimlessly. When he reached him Enjolras words spilled out of his mouth without him thinking, once again.

“Before you punch me, I just want you to know how sorry I am. I know that what I said was inexcusable and unforgivable, but you have to know I didn’t mean any of it. I care about you so much, and I hate myself for the way I always resort to those cruel words; it isn’t my intention I assure you. Never would I want to purposely want to hurt you, something just comes over me whenever we argue. I know it’s not an excuse. If you and Jehan are happy together, then I’m happy for you. I just wanted you to know, that I don’t mean any of those hateful things. You are one of the most important people in my life; I just want you to be happy. As strange as it may seem considering my behaviour.”

The words were rushed, but more eloquent that he had ever hoped to be under the circumstances. Grantaire looked shocked, his eyes were wide and he was pale. It was understandable considering the man probably hadn’t even seen that he was in the café, he had just sort of appeared and pounced on him.

“I… I erm, well. We both said things, I mean as petty as it sounds: you started it, but I did my part. Apology accepted?”

“You don’t sound very sure.”

“I’m just confused.”

“About what?

“Me and Jehan? What do you mean?” Grantaire’s face was in a state of bewilderment.

“You and him – I saw you. I saw you…” he couldn’t even bring himself to say it so he just waved his hands around vaguely.

“I know you saw us having sex, I was there. But you do realise that we aren’t together? We just have sex occasionally, well had. We’ve decided that it wasn’t worth it anymore.”

This time it was Enjolras’ turn to stare.

“You’re not with Jehan?”

“That’s what I said. Damn Enjy have you finally gone too far and turned your brain in to mush?”

Enjolras didn’t answer him. He just carrying on staring before making a snap decision, probably not one of his wiser ones either. He grabbed hold of Grantaire’s ratty top and pulled him close to him. Grantaire was close enough that Enjolras could easily fit his lips to his own and kiss him gently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DUN DUN DUUUN
> 
> The next chapter will be the last one.

**Author's Note:**

> all chapter titles, and the name of the fic are Frank Turner songs and/or lyrics :)


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